


Desire & Decorum 2 (Sinclaire)

by Yoselin



Series: Desire & Decorum [2]
Category: Choices Desire & Decorum (Visual Novel), Choices: Stories You Play, Desire & Decorum (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 11:49:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16174481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yoselin/pseuds/Yoselin
Summary: Catherine and Sinclaire take a walk through the gardens.





	Desire & Decorum 2 (Sinclaire)

As soon as the night air graced her face, Catherine felt herself relax. The dinner inside Sinclaire’s home was lovely, but she could only take pleasantries for so long. A weary sigh left her lips and the young Duchess of Edgewater used her fan to cool her face.   
The invitation from Mr. Sinclaire had arrived days prior. Catherine had been looking forward all week to the event, but now she found herself tired of it all.   
The man of the hour, Sinclaire, had disappeared after an hour or two. His guests had assumed control of the dinner party and carried on the event. Catherine, however, had grown impatient. She had come to see Sinclaire today and could not stand Duke Richards’ advances or Miss Holloway’s cutting remarks without him.   
Tilting her head back and breathing in deeply, Catherine bit her lip. Sinclaire had left out the front door earlier, so surely he would still be within his own grounds. The host could not just up and leave his own guests alone.   
Deciding to walk, Catherine straightened her gown. At worst, pacing around the property would steel her to return to the monotonous event. At best, she would find the man she sought.   
The gardens belonging to Sinclaire’s estate were lovely at night. The moonlight illuminated the plants and casted about a serene glow. The scent of the night air was that of fresh grass and sweet flowers. Rows of yellow roses dotted the small garden.   
In Grovershire, Catherine had enjoyed gardening. Her mother had, had a patch of flowers by their home and every plant had been lovingly cared for. In summers, Catherine had assisted in their care. In winters, she had missed the buds which could be seen from her window.   
Reaching out a hand, Catherine traced a yellow rose lovingly. The petals were soft on her skin and she inhaled the scent. It was rich, sweet, and some of her exhaustion from the earlier evening lifted from her shoulders. Nature always soothed the senses.   
A sound behind her made her turn. Footsteps on the garden path announced Sinclaire’s arrival. The very man Catherine had been searching for had found her without trouble.   
“Mr. Sinclaire,” Catherine greeted. She could not help the small smile that graced her lips then. His presence always had an effect on her, and Catherine could not deny the small little tingle that climbed down her spine at the sight of him.   
At her call, Sinclaire turned. A momentary lapse of surprise filled his gaze before he relaxed. It seemed he had not expected a visitor.  
“Lady Catherine, I did not expect to see you here,” he admitted. The hints of a smile turned the corner of his lips upwards. Despite his best attempts, Catherine could tell that he was pleased. For all of his earlier attempts at chasing her away, he could no longer deny that he enjoyed her presence.   
The thought made her giddy and Catherine looked away from him lest her features begin to redden. Her fingertips continued to trace a rose petal. The flowers truly were beautiful.   
“Should I not say the same of you? You disappeared during your own party,” Catherine chided, “I came to search for you. Your garden is lovely.”  
Sinclaire took her side. The tips of his coat graced her shoulder. He peered at the rose bushes with a warm expression. One of his own hands reached out for a nearby rose. He took the stem in his fingers and expertly avoided the thorns.   
“My grandmother loved nature. She threatened to disown my father if he let her garden dry. I made it clear to my staff that they had to keep the garden maintained. It is a fitting reminder of her,” he explained. His voice was warm then, soft. It seemed speaking of his family made him pleased.   
Catherine archived it to memory. She could understand his desire to have a piece of a loved one. Her own mother had enjoyed nature, and Catherine still thought of her when she saw a flower in bloom or smelt the scent of the forest.   
“My mother had a garden in our home. She and I watched over it every spring. We spent hours weeding and watering the plants. I think of her when I see the garden,” Catherine murmured.   
Her hands ran down the length of the rose stem. The thorns were prickly but Catherine had practice at evading them. Carefully, she traced a line down the flower. She could feel the night’s condensation gathering among the leaves. It was a pleasant sensation on her skin.   
Sinclaire paused. “Would you like me to give you a bouquet? They would match your dress.”  
He indicated to her gown. Catherine had selected a gold dress with white designs pooling on her skirts. The roses would in fact compliment her outfit well and the thought of having his tribute was tempting, but she could not bring herself to agree. A cut flower was nothing but a beautiful corpse. To take the life out of something this enchanting for personal gain was selfish. She would much rather enjoy it from afar.   
Slowly, she shook her head.   
“No. I would rather you let them grow.”  
Catherine withdrew her hand and pushed a lock of her curly, dark hair back. Her fingers smelled of roses and she gave the garden one last look. Finally, she turned back to Sinclaire.   
The gentleman was still staring at the patch of flowers. A serene light shone in his eyes and his mouth was up in a half smile. It was a beautiful sight and Catherine’s own smile grew in reply.   
When he was not scowling at the other nobles or hiding his emotions behind an icy facade, Sinclaire was full of life. His smile was soft, inviting, and his eyes gleamed with emotion. Catherine was grateful she was one of the privileged few that could see him like this; see the man underneath the mask and ice in all of his kindness and warmth.   
A nice feeling spread through her body. She could feel a little race of her heart as she regarded Sinclaire. The moonlight casted handsome shadows across his face and his presence was enough to make her melt. He certainly had won her over.   
“Where were you this evening? I turned and you were gone,” Catherine wondered.   
Sinclaire had just left in the middle of his dinner party. As soon as the plates had been cleared away and the guests had gone to the sitting room to play music and gossip, Sinclaire had vanished. He had not said a word or dismissed himself from his guests.   
“I do not like social gatherings. I host dinners because it is expected of me, but I would much rather be on my own. I needed to breathe for a few moments and be away from the sounds of gossip and chatter. I apologize for not telling you,” Sinclaire answered. His hands folded behind his back and he walked alongside Catherine.   
The garden had a small trail that ran the length of the land. If one followed it, as they did now, they would see each flower in all its splendor. Peonies, violets, roses, and more lined the sides of the Estate. The garden was truly breathtaking.  
Catherine bit her lip. “I understand your need to be alone. I find social gatherings tiring myself. There is only so much smiling one can do before their cheeks begin to cramp.”  
To accent her point, Catherine pressed the tips of her fingers to her cheeks. After a long day of smiling and greeting everyone, she was tired. Her face felt exhausted and being able to relax her lips did wonders.   
A small sound left the back of Sinclaire’s throat. He sounded amused as he gazed at her. He seemed like he understood her points.   
Extending his arm for her to loop her own through his elbow, he nodded.   
“You hide your discomfort well. In social gatherings, you radiate warmth and compassion. One would almost think you are meant for the spotlight.”  
Catherine inclined her head and her brown locks hid her reddened cheeks. That was a compliment. Sinclaire never complimented her. It seemed that she was beginning to grow closer to him.   
Pressing a finger to her lips, she looked at the garden. A small patch of baby’s breath brushed past her arms. She gazed at them and smiled softly.   
“My mother was a singer, she existed in the spotlight. I inherited her ability to shine within it,” Catherine took a breath, “But I admit I prefer solitude. Away from prying eyes, one is free to be themselves. There is no worry, no stress, and no having to watch one’s tongue. It is relaxing.”  
A peaceful silence descended upon them. Where usually the quiet would make Catherine anxious, she felt at ease. Sinclaire’s presence always left her feeling joyful. The man, without knowing or meaning to, had a calming effect.   
Catherine fluttered open her fan and signed ‘I enjoy being with you’. Lady Grandmother had trained her in the arts of flirtation well.   
Sinclaire saw the fan, read it, and looked away. The hints of a smile were back on his lips and a flush of color was on his cheeks. He seemed most pleased at her affection.   
A gentle hand was placed on her back. “Should I leave you alone then? Let you enjoy the quiet which is so rare?”   
Catherine bit the inside of her cheek. He was teasing her, as well as a man of his character could joke, and she let out a soft laugh. For all of his icy facades, Sinclaire could not hide who he truly was. Behind thick walls existed a man with a caring heart and a soft personality.   
Matching his smile, she leaned closer. His coat tickled her sleeve and she could feel the warmth that radiated from his body. It was pleasant and she wished the moment would carry out forever.   
“Do you wish to be alone as well? Should I return to the party and let you enjoy your garden?” Catherine opted to tease back.   
Her response came in another twitch of Sinclaire’s lips. His smile grew and was almost visible. The hand on her back moved back to her arm.   
“No,” Sinclaire responded and he sounded genuine, “I enjoy your presence.”  
“As do I enjoy yours,” Catherine nodded. She signaled her fan again. ‘Stay’.   
The hand on her arm tightened until it was a full embrace. She had asked him to stay and now he would. Sinclaire, a man that kept everyone at arm’s length, could not help but want her at his side.   
“Should I show you the garden then? The grand tour? My grandmother would never forgive me if I did not show off her pride and joy,” Sinclaire extended his arm.   
Catherine paused and gave a full smile. Feeling giddy and pleased, she slipped her arm through his. In a quiet breath, she agreed.   
The pair then turned and walked through the garden path gazing at each flower in turn. While both of them enjoyed solitude and being away from the decorum of high society, they could not hide their desire to be within each other’s presence.   
An attraction between them was strong, growing like a flower bud in spring, and Catherine was intent on letting it bloom. Sinclaire was the man for her, and she would do anything to remain at his side.


End file.
